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Wednesday, May 30, 2012

I'm loving my new
cover for Claiming Korey. Thank you to Siren and cover artist, Harris Channing, for capturing my guys so completely. The
official release date is June 11th but pre-sales are coming soon.
Here's the blurb.

Claiming Korey

Urban Affairs: 2

When Korey, is kidnapped by
were-slavers and sold to the Federal government for research, two wolf-shifters
join forces to save him. Caught between two strong men, can Korey stay loyal to
one while denying his attraction for the other? Or is it possible to have them
both?

Monday, May 28, 2012

Today is the official launch of Undercover Lovers, book one of Urban Affairs. Release Day is always exciting but it's stressful too. I can drive myself nuts popping over to Bookstrand every five minutes to check the rankings. Instead, I'm working on the edits for book 2 of the series. It's called Claiming Korey. Release date is June 11th. Here's a little sneak preview:

Claiming Korey

Urban Affairs: 2

When Korey, is kidnapped by
were-slavers and sold to the Federal government for research, two wolf-shifters
join forces to save him. Caught between two strong men, can Korey stay loyal to
one while denying his attraction for the other? Or is it possible to have them
both?

****

UNDERCOVER LOVERS

Urban Affairs: 1

This title is offered at a 10%
discount. Offer ends midnight CST, June 4th.

Two undercover
agents weave a web of deceit when they bed their target.

Undercover
Were-agent Slade Wolfe works for the Department of Shifter Affairs. He's on
special assignment to take down Jaxon Castle, a resistance leader. Slade's
contact in New York is a human cop, Mike Donovan, who's hiding his real
relationship with their target—he and Jaxon are lovers. When Slade beds Jaxon
so he can plant his surveillance equipment, a jealous Mike freaks out.

Both agents suspect
the charges have been trumped up by the Feds and they're reluctant to take
Jaxon down, but the director of DSA is getting antsy and he orders Mike to kill
his partner and frame Jaxon for the murder. Getting rid of his competition is
tempting, but Mike can't kill an innocent man, even if it means he'll end up in
DSA's crosshairs with his rival and his boyfriend.

A spotlight came on,
illuminating one end of the plywood stage, and a disembodied voice came over
the loudspeaker. “Get ready to drool, men, because tonight we have a new dancer
and he’s gonna turn up the heat. Here he is, for the first time on our stage, or
any stage for that matter. Let’s hear it for Slade.” The crowd went wild and
men started moving toward the platform to catch a scent of the newcomer.

Jaxon Castle took a seat at the bar, and Quinn slid a bottle
of mineral water in front of him. Jax
never drank anything stronger than water at his club. He knew what the other
shifters called him behind his back—control freak. They didn’t mean it as a
compliment. Jax preferred to think of himself as a detail-oriented
manager. Things tended to go
wrong if he didn’t attend to every detail himself, and he needed all his animal instincts
functioning at their peak in case of trouble. That meant staying stone-cold
sober.

The bartender leaned over to make himself heard over the
noise. “Fresh meat, huh?”

“Yeah. All the way
from Los Angeles.”

“What’s he doing
here?”

“The same thing all
the strays are doing,” Jaxon grunted. “Running from the law. Dogtown is turning
into a fucking dog pound.”

“You don’t give them
all jobs in your club. What’s so special about this one?”

Jaxon shrugged. “His
timing was good. Korey didn’t show up today. The little prick left me high and
dry, and on a Saturday night. Fucking unbelievable. Then this guy walks in,
fresh off the bus, and looking for any kind of job, and a place to stay. I sent
him over to Benjamin to see about renting an apartment and told him to come
back tonight for an audition. I sure hope he’s good.”

“You didn’t check his
credentials?” Quinn feigned a surprised look but couldn’t hold back his
laughter.

“I didn’t want to
scare him off.”

“He doesn’t look
like he scares easy.”

It was true. With a
six-foot-four, muscular frame and rugged features, the newcomer looked like he could
hold his own. Jaxon took a big swallow from the bottle.

“Well, I wouldn’t worry about it, boss. The men like a variety of
inventory.” Quinn winked. “I know for a fact most of the guys would like to see
you up on that stage.”

Jaxon choked and
spewed water across the bar.

Quinn smirked and
wiped his face with the back of an arm. “You all right, boss?”

“Fuck you.” Jaxon
scowled at him, swiveled on his stool, and leaned his elbows back on the bar.
He heard Quinn laughing behind him, but he focused on the stage. The men were
more than curious about his private life, but the subject was strictly
off-limits.

Friday, May 25, 2012

Estella is better known as the Vampire Queen of the Rejected due to her major Haversham complex; dumped at the altar, she's Dracula's rejected bride. And boy does she harp on it--still wears her Victorian wedding dress, moth holes and all.Lucy Rot was a sweet girl who had a rather bad experience with magic. Now she's a zombie and Estella's lover and lacky.Together, they lure the unsuspecting into their dark basement for a fix of darkly erotic twisted tales...and dinner!

Think story within a story. Great expectations mashed with Tales from the Crypt and Red Shoe Diaries.

TALES FRO THE COFFIN BOOK ONE, STRANGE AND BEAUTIFUL, RELEASES 22nd MAY 2012 . Book two, All the Pretty Faces releases June/July 2012

EXCERPT“Fancy bursting into my boudoir and expecting me to entertain on demand. The cheek of it. You people have no manners.” Estella puffed her raspberry-red hair into something that resembled an up-do and readjusted her breasts, shovingher plump flesh back into her once-upon-a-time-white corset. “I know. The wordis out. I give great story. I do understand. You’re excited, who wouldn’t be? I amrather marvelous, if I do say so myself.“In my day, though, the men held doors open for ladies, and the ladies tiltedtheir necks to offer supper. Oh, no need to wrap that sweater farther up yourjugular, dear, I’ve already eaten, so I’m not hungry…at the moment.” Estellastretched her arms out, licked her canines, and hoisted her moth-hole-riddenskirt to expose her alabaster thighs decorated with stockings laddered at theknees and splattered with fresh blood. “I can’t vouch for Lucy, though. She’salways hungry, aren’t you my little Deady Bear.”

BLURB:Estella, Vampire Queen of the Rejected, is sick of men. Or so she would have you think. Ditched at the altar by Dracula himself, she'd rather spend her days with what she now believes to be the more faithful gender. Plagued by a Haversham complex, she gets her kicks by luring prey into her decrepit house with promises of erotic tales...but mind your manners, and fingers, because she bites.Lucy Rotterdayne—a zombie better known as Lucy Rot—is Estella's sometimes-faithful subject and lover. Although why she hangs around to be ridiculed and taunted by a bitter vampire, she has no idea. Perhaps the answer is rooted the story of how she was zombified by a doctor who is simply masterful with his hands?WARNING. For adult audiences only.

BIO:JoAnne
Kenrick, an ex-Ghost Tour Guide turned Romance Author, is a Welsh lass who has
lived in various countries around the world. She now calls North Carolina her
home, where she lives with her husband, two children and a lazy cat. When they
aren't demanding her attention, she can most likely be found watching a vampire
movie, reading or baking up a British favorite in her N.C. kitchen. That is,
when she isn't writing or chatting up a storm on social networking sites.

“Back in New Yorkshire, the happening center of Pinar’s
marketing realm, I spun wild tales for countless interviewers. I left out names
to protect the not-so-innocent, hey, I wasn’t a complete asshole, but I loved
telling stories about scandalous parties and hinting about who was bonking who
in high fashion. Face it, hmm, 95% of the supermodels were elves because our
skin didn’t react to the lethal pollution like human skin. Suffering from boils
or nasty acne never plagued elves. We were lovelier in every way: better hair,
skin, posture and grace. A few super boffo humans clawed their way into our
ranks, but they never lasted long. The pixie dust always did them in. Some
companies used dwarves for the shock value. Yuck.

“Humans read my exploits on readers in libraries or cafes.
The lack of paper led to fashion magazines being too expensive to produce. Posters,
well, unless someone had expendable bucks, the masses had to satisfy their lust
with projections of my elven perfection.

“Did I embellish the truth about my life? Not really. I
lived quite a high life. I was a supermodel, ha, a royal elven supermodel. It
didn’t get much better than that. Let me tell you, often I cleaned up the
stories for the masses. Too many humans hated to believe that elves drank or
pixie dusted their senses into numbness. Come on, we were elves, not frail,
clutching to life humans. Elves were special. We were on top of the milling
masses. But sometimes I looked around and man, seeing my world destroying
itself depressed me enough to seek oblivion.

“And I hate to say it, but elves were responsible for
screwing Pinar into the dirt. Somewhere along the line, a certain clan decided
to rape Pinar’s environmental resources. Yeah, hence the no paper because not
many trees remained. The notion drove some of us, like your lovely narrator,
into deep depression, ya know, the type of depression that bites an elf in the
ass when the mind races beyond sleep. The type that makes an elf drink too
much.

“Well fuck-a-duck, at least my royal clan didn’t screw over
Pinar. But we did sell out to the clan who screwed the pooch in a major manner.
That act still pisses me right the fuck off.

“But that is all in the past now. My story “An Elf for All
Centuries” describes what happened to me after New Yorkshire.

“Now I feel much better. Really. At first I doubted if I
would, but even I can adapt to life sans expensive conditioners and
electricity.

“Let’s see, yeah, hell, here’s a little slice of my previous
life.”

EXCERPT:

The
decorative trio strutted across the tree-choked park. Fabion slowed down to
examine the trees. Too many dead branches allowed the weak sun to leak past
their skeletal shapes. The park looked worse than last month. How disturbing.

A
few yards away, a large cluster of grubby humans stopped eating their picnic
lunch and stared in open awe. Today's relatively mild pollution allowed the
frail humans to remove their breathers. How rare. Fabion performed his number
two wave and smile combo. They waved back. Smart of them to acknowledge his
legendary beauty.

Lanaro
sniffed in disgust. "Talk about slumming! Why do you want to acknowledge those
scruffy breeders? It's bad enough they keep popping out their ugly brats. At
least elves understand control."

More
like male elves were close to sterile and the female elves had almost vanished.
"Lanaro, your nasty attitude is why the humans hate us. I don't care if
they enjoy the park. As long as they don't bother me, I don't bother them. Let
them enjoy the trees." Or what was left of the blighted growths. Fabion
shivered in distress. The dying foliage worried him.

He
needed to set that problem aside for later. A more important issue harassed
Fabion's nerves. The supermodel needed to urge Hestran to not hang around
Lanaro anymore. The bigoted elf emitted toxic vibes worse than the poisoned
sea. Even now his ill temper probably contributed to each tree's sad demise.

Fabion
turned away from Lanaro's downer attitude and resumed walking. A small human
girl, her pale, freckled face showing more dirt than flesh, raced up to him.
Her filthy fingers tugged at his trouser leg. Hey! Her grip almost made Fabion yank free. Watch the dirt, child, these wheat-hued, hand-spun silk trousers cost
plenty!

Fabion
calmed down and recovered from his near recoil. He needed to stop fretting and
act benevolent. Good promotional work helped maintain his smokin' hot image.
Never let a scandal-mag asshole using a long-range-laser digital camera capture
nonsense. Snap, click, boom, reputation as a sweet, generous elf shot to
smithereens. Scandal rags loved ripping down pure elves. To date, Fabion had
conquered the silly mess, but then again, bribes always solved a few ugly,
drunken problems.

Behind
him Lanaro gagged in fresh disgust. "Gross. I'd kick that foul thing back
into last century."

What
a supreme asshole. Despite his annoyance, a radiant smile brighter than the dim
sun shone forth on Fabion's face. He pitched his melodic voice into a wise,
sincere tone. He imagined the ancients had sounded fuckin' similar. "Yes,
my little one?"

How
quaint. Before he bent over, his fingers discovered a few hundred credits
hidden in his vest pocket. Whoops, he must have skimped on Matt's tip. No, his
fingers had unearthed his emergency cash stash. Good.

Why
did some human children regard an elf's touch as a spiritual blessing? Aside
from his incredible beauty and superior strength, Fabion owned no magical
powers. Still, making a human happy appealed to him.

His
blinding smile shone down on the unclean waif. Fabion leaned over and gingerly
patted her snarled hair. What felt sticky? Did something squirm against his
fingers? Fuck-a-yuck! His free hand slipped the child the credits.

"There,
my dear girl, is this what you want from me?"

An
excited squeal rang free. The dirty child curtsied and adoringly kissed Fabion's
clean fingers before she scampered off to where her less bold, yet equally
soiled, friends huddled under a struggling magnolia tree. Delighted squeals and
adoring exclamations drifted toward him along with curtseys. How cute.

Those
wise children understood the kicky score. Fabion blew the happy tykes many
sweet kisses. His act caused a tremendous giggling fit. He smiled and bowed.

Whispering
occurred until the girls stood in a line and curtseyed in solemn unison.

"You
touched that walking germ factory! She looked like she hadn't bathed in
months." The shuddering Hestran almost hyperventilated in distress.
"Fabion, why? Why do you do such rash things? Aren't you going to de-germ
yourself?"

Could
his boyfriend sound a little more snotty? Fabion didn't appreciate how Hestran
slathered de-germer over his thin fingers.

"No,
because we can't catch human diseases! I ain’t fucking worried about it."
Fabion exhaled and forced himself to smile. "Please, Hestran, today I
enjoy my glittering king of the advertising world status even if our world is a
filthy, polluted armpit. Think, my killer new contract with Celebrant Sparkling
Herbal Drink tucks another primo feather in my crowded cap. I feel fucking
wonderful. Don't you feel happy for me?"

Hestran
pouted again. "I can't believe you agreed to work with a Walmontech-owned
company."

“There’s the teaser!

“Oh right, the boss wants me to add in the blurb. Duh.”

BLURB:

Elf Prince Fabion enjoys the perfect supermodel lifestyle
until wizard Matradorian chucks him back in time to save Henda, the sexy,
powerful elf king. Since the death of his lover, Henda has lingered in a
half-alive, half-dead state. Surprisingly, Fabion is a spiritual match for
Henda's dead lover, so only he can save the dying king.

Fabion uses his sexy bod and sweet lovin' to revive the elf
king. All seems well until he realizes that by saving Henda, his own timeline
was destroyed and he must stay in this ancient land forever. Fabion pitches the
biggest temper tantrum of any century.

Soon a new threat emerges which puts his life in fresh
danger. Now who wants to kill him?

****

“And cut! Now here’s the important stuff, like where to buy
the book and other details about S.A Garcia, or, as I plan to call her, da
boss.”

Tuesday, May 22, 2012

Prepare yourself for an erotic
roller-coaster of a read from the very first chapter in the novel Cornish Cream
by Steve Geoffreys. In the story a lottery winning couple, Jeff and Sarah
Stevenson rent a cottage in Cornwall, England for their first anniversary and
to act out their own top ten sex fantasies on each other. But, when they arrive
back home in London after their debauched week away a nasty surprise drops
through their letterbox. The owner of the cottage, Lord Smedley has sent them a
rather large bill that will rock their perfect world if they don't pay up. It
opens a can of worms and during the drama that ensues, surprises and
revelations surface that bring on a final twist.

Jeff’s
thumbs teased at the cork of the bottle of Tattinger Champagne. Sarah sat at
the dining table with her fingers in her ears. The cork popped and narrowly
missed the crystal chandelier, bounced off the high ceiling of their Georgian
townhouse, and landed near to one of their original Tiffany table lamps. Sarah
squealed in delight as the millions of bubbles ejaculated over the bottle’s
neck and down Jeff’s hands.

‘Happy
anniversary darling.’ Grinned Jeff as he filled two Champagne flutes and placed
the bottle back into the solid silver ice bucket.

‘Yes,
our first anniversary. What present have you got for me? You do know that it
has got to be paper for a first anniversary present don’t you?’ Sarah asked as
Jeff handed her the glass.

‘It is
paper yes, but you will need to down that glass and remain sitting down when I
give it to you.’ Jeff smirked one of his knowing smiles. Sarah frowned her
usual way that she did when he said something to confuse, bewilder, or intrigue
her.

‘Oh my
god, it’s not a divorce petition for me to sign is it? Just because you won all
that money, you want to trade me in for a much younger model don’t you?’ She
asked before gulping down half the glass. Jeff laughed loudly.

‘Don’t
be ridiculous. I would not trade you in for all the money in the world. You’re
one in a million.’

‘Not
forgetting the fifty seven pence let alone the interest that is accruing on a
daily basis!’ Jeff chipped in. Sarah emptied her glass and Jeff went to top it
up again.

‘Trying
to get me drunk and take advantage of me are you?’ Jeff just winked and poured
away.

‘Anyway,
I have just emptied my glass so where is my present?’ She asked with a hiccup.

Jeff
opened a drawer on the dining table where the solid silver cutlery was kept and
handed a gift wrapped parcel to Sarah. She took it and felt it in a mock
curiosity.

‘Mmmh
let me guess, is it a book. Is it that new romance novel I mentioned a couple
of weeks ago?’

‘Why
don’t you open it and find out.’ Jeff told her as he topped her glass up then
his own. Sarah opened it to reveal an expensive leather bound journal.

‘The
first page is, well,… compelling reading.’ Jeff nodded reassuringly before
taking a copious sip of Champagne. Sarah opened the cover and her eyes widened,
closely followed by her jaw dropping.

‘Jeff’s
top ten fantasies that he would like to do with Sarah!’ She blurted out on
reading the first line at the top of the page. Jeff grinned widely as he
watched her slowly read down the list and blush.

‘Phew,
hot stuff! Not sure about numbers five seven and nine though. Think that I
would have to be feeling very naughty to do those, or very drunk. Or maybe both
very drunk and very naughty. There is one thing about your list that baffles me
somewhat though?’ Sarah shrugged.

‘Oh
really, so what is that then?’ Jeff enquired, rubbing his jaw line.

‘I am
curious as to why you have not listed a threesome with me and another woman on
your fantasy list?’ Pondered Sarah, eyes narrowing in an attempt to psyche Jeff
out.

‘That
would be because I know how much you hate the thought of having sex with
another woman as much as you hate the thought of me having sex with another
man. And besides, the threesome thing may well be most men’s top fantasy, but
most men cannot even satisfy one woman, so what the hell kind of chance of
fulfillment is he going to have with two women?’ Jeff stated in the manner of a
philosopher.

Sarah’s
face cheeks were almost crimson with a mixture of the alcohol and the arousal
that the fantasy list had conjured up in her mind. But it was burning brightest
from the secrets that she was currently keeping from him.

‘Since
you so put it that way, yes. I can see why you left that one off your list.’
Sarah fanned her face with her hands in the manner of a TV reality star that
assumed they were some sort of A-list celebrity diva.

‘It’s
hidden upstairs actually, I’ve not had time to wrap it yet.’ Sarah told him as
she stood up from the table.

‘Sounds
intriguing. Are you going to go and get it for me now then? Jeff enquired with
raised eyebrows.

‘Yes,
wait there. Top your glass up.’ Sarah told him as she sauntered off to the stairs,
her hips swaying in an overtly seductive way. Jeff watched her walk away
knowing that Sarah knew he would be staring at her sexy bum.

‘Stop
staring at my bum and don’t get any ideas about following me upstairs, you will
spoil the surprise.’ Sarah said half over her shoulder.

‘So
that you can do your naughty fantasy list?’ Sarah asked as she turned to go
upstairs.

‘The
views are breathtaking down there, but so is your bum when you walk.’ Remarked
Jeff.

‘Flattery
might get you everywhere. I’ll call you up when your present is wrapped and
ready.’ Sarah sexily winked as she ascended the stairs.

Jeff had a feeling that she was going to treat him to one of the fantasies off his list. Then doubt set in at the possibility of that unless she was a mind reader or had found the journal that Jeff had stashed in the wine cellar days earlier.

Two undercover
agents weave a web of deceit when they bed their target.

Undercover
Were-agent Slade Wolfe works for the Department of Shifter Affairs. He's on
special assignment to take down Jaxon Castle, a resistance leader. Slade's
contact in New York is a human cop, Mike Donovan, who's hiding his real relationship
with their target—he and Jaxon are lovers. When Slade beds Jaxon so he can
plant his surveillance equipment, a jealous Mike freaks out.

Both agents suspect
the charges have been trumped up by the Feds and they're reluctant to take
Jaxon down, but the director of DSA is getting antsy and he orders Mike to kill
his partner and frame Jaxon for the murder. Getting rid of his competition is
tempting, but Mike can't kill an innocent man, even if it means he'll end up in
DSA's crosshairs with his rival and his boyfriend.

Thursday, May 17, 2012

Today I'm
posting two blogs because it's International Day Against Homophobia and I want
to help spread the word and also promote the Hop Against Homophobia.

Over 250 authors, reviewers and publishers are taking part between May 17th and May 20th. There are prizes involved (see below) but our focus is to bring awareness to a very serious subject - homophobia.

A lot of my stories are about gay men but like many authors of gay
romance, I'm a heterosexual woman who is married with kids. People who know me
ask—why write about men? Hey, I love men!

I discovered I enjoyed writing from the man's POV much more than the
woman's. I love the emotional and physical connection between two strong male
characters and
the appeal of the male body.

I worked with men for twenty-six years in a construction office and out
in the field. We were a diverse group, including many cultures, religions, etc.
One of my coworkers was a gay man in a long committed relationship. He and his
partner adopted his sister's child when she died. I watched another friend die
of AIDS. We were fortunate our group was caring and accepting of everyone. Unfortunately
it's not always like that in the real world.

The definition for homophobia is—the fear of homosexuals. That fear
inspires discrimination. Open communication dispels fear.

I love Tina Fey's answer, when
asked the difference between male and female comedy writers: “The men urinate
in cups. And sometimes jars.”

It's a funny line but for me it
underscores the fact that inside we're not all that different. So I'm
proud to stand with other members of
the MM writing community and bring attention to the serious issues that
GLBTQ people face.

Help us make it better.

And if you haven't read a MM romance here's your chance. Leave a comment
and your email addy below and you may win a copy of A Chance Encounter or your choice of an ebook from my backlist.

Adam is a wolf hybrid, the result of a military research project,
splicing animal DNA with human DNA, to create the perfect soldier. Somehow the
genetic manipulation went too far and Adam can't control his beast. Slated for
termination, a freak gas explosion provides the opportunity for his escape from
the medical facility he calls home. A hunted man, he expects to spend the rest
of his life alone, but a Chance encounter changes everything.

Chance is unlucky in love and stuck in a job he hates. Then he meets
Adam, his perfect man. But Adam is more than a man and involving Chance in his
life could get them both killed.

During the second week
of my two week blog tour to promote my new book, ‘Alice in Fetishland’ I’m discussing
some of the various themes related to the book.

In
today’s blog I want to talk about the relationship between writer and real-life
dominatrix which has influenced my writing, especially in relation to my new
book ‘Adventures in Fetishland’.Basically,
I was inspired to start writing through serving an especially creative dungeon
mistress for a number of years who was very skilled at creating scenes,
assuming different characters, improvising and story-telling.I started writing because I wanted to
contribute to the scenes my mistress had imagined and add some of my creativity
to them and discovered that story-telling was a great way of doing that. My
‘Adventures in Fetishland’ book is pretty much homage to her and the scenes she
created.

In
particular, within the main story-line describing the relationship between Kim
and the Red Queen and the former’s journey of submission to the latter, are the
two tales retold by the ‘black cat’ character that relate Kim’s
back-story.These two tales originated
as stories that formed a story cycle that were part of real time dungeon sessions.One of the things mistress would do was set
me a mission.This usually involved the
rescue of a pagan goddess and a set of trials or challenges that had to be
passed through to complete the mission.She would create the scene and the key tests, sometimes providing me
with tools necessary for completion of the task or introducing characters who
would assist me or oppose me.I had to
fill out the story, working out how I would complete the mission and overcome
the tests laid down for me. I would report back to her dungeon and read back
the story, with her usually finding some fault with how it was completed, which
I had to be punished for!.This is how
these two tales were originally conceived.Although originally I thought the stories created in this way probably weren’t
suitable for publication I felt they worked well for ‘Adventures in Fetishland’
to create the back story for Kim.

Although
my experiences are unusual in many ways it’s not surprising that such a
relationship between the creative process of writing and scenes created by a
dominatrix should co-exist so easily.Dungeon mistresses use their powers of psychology, imagination,
character, tone of voice and scene setting, as well as their more obvious
physical attributes and presence, to control and manipulate their submissives
to their will. Dommes have a wonderful sense of theatre and drama, which at its
most intense level goes way beyond simple role playing.I know I learnt an enormous amount about the
use of language, dialogue, pace and timing from being in and observing the
scenes created by a dungeon mistress. It was an inspiration and privilege to be
touched by that and then to go on and translate some of it into my
writing.

Story
blurb

In this bdsm re-invention
of the Alice stories Kim’s life takes an unexpected twist when she is taken
from the massage parlour she works in to a fetish fantasy world ruled over by
the Red Queen, a powerful dominatrix. There, an intense psychological drama is
played out between the two women as Kim enters a journey into submission. The
Red Queen assumes different characters who torment Kim in a series of trials
ranging from the funny and strange to the sadistic and erotic.Kim is lured deeper into this world by hints
the Red Queen knows something about her past.Why has she been chosen to serve this powerful female?Why is the Red Queen so interested in
her?When Kim finally finds out the
truth, it is shocking and bizarre.

“Now Goddess
Nemesis set a mission for me.She sent
me to a marble temple in Constantinople, which used to be a place of devotion
to the goddesses but which had been captured by the Knights Templar. It was
here that the thirteen acolytes were being held. Goddess Nemesis described the
layout of the temple to me, gave precise instructions and providedcertain symbols and tools to aid me with the
quest to seek out the thirteen girls and return them all, in tact, to the
goddesses.”

The black cat
eagerly took up Kim’s request as he assumed the role of a skald, a travelling
story teller, and began his magical tale.

“I had been
directed to the hills outside Constantinople.When I looked back, in the distance, I could see the huge dome and
pointed minarets of the Church of Hagia Sophia.In front of me, as Goddess Nemisis described, was a pure white marble
temple.The setting sun cast its light
over the wall basking it in an orange glow.I walked warily the couple of hundred yards towards the marble wall.

I stood before a
sheer golden gate, a single sheet of pure gold dazzling in the twilight
sun.There was no lock, no hinge, no
blemish and no sign of how it would be possible to enter. I had been toldthe temple was protected by a guardian who
would help me, so I waited.As the sun
sank in the east and darkness descended the walls of the marble temple became
illuminated by the luminous glow of a full moon.I felt in my bones the deep spirituality of
this moment, a sense of impending change and foreboding came over me.I was conscious of a presence and beside me a
large wolf with a shaggy red coat appeared.It turned its head towards me and fixed its yellow eyes on me.

“I am the Wolf
Goddess and I have been charged as guardian to protect this sacred site.I am also a goddess of the moon and my powers
wax and wane with the shifting phases of the moon.I am at my most powerful at the time of the
full moon, which is why you have been sent on this mission at this time.You will need my aid to pass through the
first set of gates into the courtyard beyond.”

The Wolf Goddess
strode up to the golden gate.Her howl
would have brought down the very gates of hell but at the sound of her call
some deep magic of the goddesses of old was invoked.The gates did not open, but their physical
form dissipated into a golden mist.

The Wolf Goddess
turned to me, “Slave Nano, my power can only hold the gate open for so long. Go
now.May the goddesses give you courage
and strength.Much rests on completing
your mission.Do not fail.”

His work usually has
dominant female characters and submissive males. His stories explore the
tensions between dominant and submissive and the boundaries between pain and
pleasure, physical and mental bondage and retribution and reward.

Slave Nano lives in
Yorkshire in the United Kingdom.He
works full time and juggles his writing with this.His work has been published by Xcite Books
and House of Erotica.